


Resonance

by Moonheart13



Series: Alternate Universes [4]
Category: South Park
Genre: M/M, Prejudice, strong depictions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 13:27:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18195203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonheart13/pseuds/Moonheart13
Summary: In which Gregory gets a little steamed up, but makes a new friend. Hooray for Gregory. Don't spend it all in once place.





	Resonance

“Gregory, I get that you might be having some issues—”

“Yes,” the blond barked back, running a hand through his short curls in frustration, “Yes, I am having ‘issues’.”

Professor McElroy frowned, brow furrowing. He leaned back in his desk chair, stroking his black beard pensively.

Gregory sighed. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m just—I should have found a partner by now.”

“Sometimes these things just take time,” McElroy said. “Lots of students have trouble finding one.”

“Then why is it I’m the only student in my entrance class that doesn’t have one?”

“That’s just your class, Greg. A few years ago, we had a whole half of a class that couldn’t partner with anyone.”

“Did they ever find partners?”

“Eventually…after a few years.”

“Years?!” Gregory cried out.

“Now, now, don’t get discouraged,” McElroy said, his hands up. “Tell you what. I’ll talk with the headmaster and we’ll get in touch with the other branches. Maybe your partner is in another country.”

“Okay,” Gregory exhaled. “How long will that take?”

“Unfortunately, you’re looking at a few months, child. At least.”

Gregory sighed again, thunking his head against the back of his chair.

***

After shutting the door to McElroy’s office, Gregory’s stuffed his hands into his pockets. He dragged his feet along the hallway, his head bowed.

Professor McElroy could be right. Maybe they just needed to look further. Perhaps there was someone out there right now, a weapon trudging through the hallways of their own school, wishing they had their match of a meister to wield them.

Even if that were true, he still had nothing to show for it.

He walked outside, the cobblestone grounds clicking underneath his nice shoes. Around him, students were chatting and practicing together. Others quietly read or rested.

Gregory knew he needed to get his mind off all this. Pouting like a child wasn’t going to bring him a weapon any sooner.

“Well, hey there, Greg!”

Oh, God.

Gregory paused, reluctantly turning around to see a familiar tuft of blond hair and a sweet smile. “Hi, Leo.”

“Whatcha up to?” Butters asked, smiling kindly.

“Just got done with a meeting,” Gregory said quickly.

“Ooh, what kinda meeting?”

Gregory hesitated, trying to come up with some sort of lie—anything, really—that would draw the least bit of attention to himself. He felt bad for attempting to lie to such a sweet bloke like Butters, but when Butters was around, usually that meant—

“Still single as hell, huh, Fields?”

Gregory’s back stiffened on instinct. “Still think you’re the best reaper in school? I guarantee your prediction would be incorrect.”

Upon turning again, Gregory came face to face with Eric Cartman’s ugly mug, a frown plastered across the latter’s face.

“At least I can actually fight for that title,” Eric hissed, “Unlike you.”

“Aww, come on, Eric,” Butters mumbled, his knuckles knocking together timidly.

“Shut up, Butters, this isn’t about you,” Eric spat back.

The weapon shrunk back at the words, as if he’d been struck.

Gregory’s teeth grinded on instinct and before he could stop himself, he growled out, “Leave him alone. He’s allowed to speak his piece.”

“Wow,” Eric chuckled, looking to Gregory. “You’ve got some pretty big balls to fuck with a meister and their weapon.”

“No one should be spoken to like that,” Gregory shot back. “Especially when it’s your partner.”

“I’m the meister. He does what I say. You don’t know what that’s like,” Eric sneered.

“Unlike _you_ ,” Gregory bristled, “I pay attention in class, and the relationship between meister and weapon is all about stability. I can see Leopold’s wavelength right now. He’s frightened of you. A weapon should not fear their meister.”

“It-It’s okay, G-Greg,” Butters said, his voice trembling.

“See? Okay. Now get the fuck out of here,” Eric snapped.

“It isn’t okay. I’ve been watching you put him down since my first day here and I’m sick of it!” Gregory’s hands balled into tight fists at his sides.

Around them, other students were watching the scene. Gregory could hear the whispers and mumbles around him.

“And what are you gonna do, bitch? Throwdown?” Eric snorted.

“…if that’s what it comes to,” Gregory decided, planting his feet firmly on the ground.

“How you gonna throwdown without a weapon, dumbass?

“It’ll be just you and me, Eric,” Gregory stated. “Or are you too self-conscious without your superior weapon?”

The reaction was instant and in only a moments time, Gregory was flattened on his back with Eric attempting to claw his eyes out. Gregory could hear Butters yelling, but the blood pounding in his ears was too loud for him to make it out.

Instead, he reached up a hand, fingers closing around Eric’s nose. The other meister lost his concentration long enough for Gregory to throw a hard punch with his free hand. After making contact, Gregory rolled them over.

Eric aimed a hard kick at Gregory’s stomach, the latter letting out a huff of pain. Reaching blindly, Gregory found one of Eric’s fingers and tugged it in an unnatural direction.

A tiny cracking sound could be heard, followed by a loud scream from Gregory’s opponent. “You fucking dirty fighter!”

Gregory ignored the cry, trying to rise to his feet, only for Eric’s hand (the one without a broken finger, presumably) to reach up. Gregory’s blond curls were tugged hard and he was back down on the ground, head throbbing.

For a few moments, the two meisters agonized in their own pain before remembering the other’s existence. Then, they were back at it, punches and kicks following in a chaotic flurry.

As Gregory readied himself for another punch, his wrist was grabbed, but not by Eric.

The sharp red nails gripped into his skin tightly as he heard the shrill voice of Professor Sheila Broflovski cry out, “There is no fighting on school property!”

“Umm, actually, Professor Broflovski, mm’kay,” Professor Mackey, who was now standing in front of Eric Cartman to keep him from launching at Gregory again, stated, “Mm’kay, a fight is actually allowed as long as a teacher is present.”

“Good, then I can still fucking kill him!” Eric spat, now sporting the beginnings of a black eye.

“Nobody is fighting!” Professor Broflovski snapped. “You two boys need to calm down!”

“Mm’kay, yes, yes, this fighting looks like something really personal, mm’kay, and you two should probably go cool off, mm’kay? Take some time to think about this, mm’kay?”

As much as Gregory did _not_ want to do that, he didn’t want to risk more trouble with the school.

“Yes, professors,” he said through gritted teeth.

Eric mumbled something under his breath that sounded vaguely like an apology.

They were both soon released, shooting glares at the other. Then, they quietly went their separate ways. Gregory cast a glance back at Butters, yet the weapon didn’t meet his gaze. He padded through the courtyard, trying to ignore the stares from his fellow students.

“You should probably deal with that nose.”

Gregory blinked, turning to see a man around his age, seated on a bench. He might have seen him around school before, but never in class. Gregory glanced around, seeing he’d walked far enough away from the now dispersed crowd of people.

“I beg your pardon?” Gregory asked the man.

“Your nose,” the man said, “It is bleeding.”

Numbly, Gregory touched his nose, frowning at the sight of blood on the tips of his fingers when he drew his hand back. “So it is,” he sighed.

“Would you like me to clean it?” the man asked. “I have a first aid kit.”

Gregory hesitated, yet moved closer to the stranger. After all, the school was well protected from kishin, witches, and anything that could be determined a threat by its large barrier. Therefore, he couldn’t be in too much danger speaking to this man. “Why? Do we know each other?”

“Non,” the man answered, “But you said some pretty impressive shit back there.”

“Oh…” Gregory gave a shy chuckle. “I am usually not so violent.”

“I’ll admit, I expected you to simply stamp your little foot and march off,” the man replied.

“I’m sure many would think that,” Gregory said, taking a seat next to him. “I just—I lost control. I can’t stand that prat on a regular basis, but the way he treats his weapon…” He glanced to the side. “It’s just so wrong.”

The man grunted, pulling out a small first aid kit from one of the large pockets of his green coat. “I noticed. I must confess, I fail to see why that comes as such a shock to you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Most meisters treat their weapons that way.”

Gregory saw fit to look offended. “That is most certainly not true!”

“Oh? Name one that does not.”

“Have you ever met Jimmy Valmer? He treats his weapon, Timmy, as his equal partner. I’ve seen them fight often enough and they work as a team. And Token does for Clyde, Kyle and Stanley, Wendy and Bebe—there’s so many excellent partnerships here!”

The man looked unsure. “…really?”

“Without a doubt,” Gregory affirmed. “It just makes me angry when someone like Eric Cartman treats his weapon like property.”

“Hm,” the man hummed as he opened the kit.

Gregory clicked his jaw, trying to make sure he hadn’t been hit there. “So, I take it you don’t go to school here?”

“Non,” the man replied. “I was at the European branch before I quit.”

“You…quit?” Gregory couldn’t believe his ears. “May I ask why?”

The man shrugged, spritzing some disinfectant onto a cloth. “Stupid things. But the little reaper boy—Damien—he wanted me to continue working, so I’m sort of ‘for-hire’ if there’s smaller missions that need to be done.”

“Oh, really? That sounds like Damien. He looks out for everybody.” Gregory smiled. “So, are you a meister?”

“Weapon. Now hold still.”

He pressed the cloth to Gregory’s nose, the blond hissing slightly in pain.

“Too much?”

“No, no, mostly my pride is hurt.”

The man gave a chuckle. “If it makes you feel any better, I think you may have won without the interruption.”

Gregory laughed softly. “Thanks.”

“I meant what I said,” the man said, “About it being impressive how you spoke about weapons.”

“It’s sad that it’s considered impressive at all,” Gregory replied. He sighed, getting used to the small burning of the disinfectant. “People act like my opinion doesn’t count because I have no partner.”

“I’m surprised that no wants to partner up with someone who wants to fight for their rights.”

“No one will match with my soul wavelength.” Gregory shrugged. “They’re either too aggressive or too…”

“Too much of a pussy?”

Gregory found himself laughing again. “To put it bluntly, yes.” He leaned back, taking the offered tissue to keep his nose from bleeding further. “I haven’t given up hope, though.”

“You shouldn’t,” the man agreed. “You’ll find someone.”

Gregory quirked a grin. “What about you? Any partners?”

“Nope.”

Gregory furrowed his brow. “Wait, you do missions all by yourself?”

“Yep.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Maybe, but I can handle myself.”

“It sounds lonely,” Gregory mumbled.

“I’m fine with being alone.”

An awkward silence fell over them for the first time since Gregory had sat down. Then, Gregory gave a nervous laugh.

“I’m so sorry. Here we are, chattering on together and I haven’t introduced myself.” He held out his hand. “Gregory Fields.”

“Mm,” the man hummed. “Christophe DeLorne.”

They shook hands.

“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance,” Gregory said.

“And, I, you. Nose still bad?”

“Nope, I think it’s feeling a lot better.” Gregory smiled. “Thanks, Christophe.”

***

“You know,” Christophe stated, “You didn’t have to come with me.”

“What else was I going to do? Study?” Gregory scoffed. “I’m five chapters ahead of everyone. What’s the point?”

“Yardale Falls! The next stop will be Yardale Falls!” the conductor yelled out, despite Gregory and Christophe being the only two in their particular carriage.

“Still, this is kind of out of the way, no?”

“Maybe, but I haven’t had the chance to travel much since I came to the school. With no partner, no real jobs.”

“And you feel comfortable going on a possibly dangerous mission with a guy you’ve only known for a week?” Christophe replied, scratching at his light beard.

“If I didn’t feel comfortable around you, I wouldn’t have let you patch me up after sticking it to that bitch.”

“Has he said anything to you?”

Gregory chortled. “Other than dirty looks at me in the classroom, no. However, his partner, Butters, approached me the other day and thanked me for sticking up for him.”

“But he is still with that stupid boy?”

“Unfortunately,” Gregory sighed. “I hope he’ll come to his senses eventually.”

“Yardale Falls!”

“Come,” Christophe said. “That is our stop.”

Gregory nodded, standing up and moving into the aisle. After waiting for Christophe to join him, the two ventured out as the train slowed to its stop. They hopped out, one by one, introduced to a small town. It was difficult to see if there were any people about as it was fairly late, just past midnight.

“So, what did Damien say was out here?” Gregory asked. “A disturbance?”

“Infestation,” Christophe corrected him, beginning to walk, while Gregory followed. “People have been complaining about bugs appearing in a great quantity. A few magic-users claim there’s a high chance of magic.”

“Kishin?” Gregory asked, glancing around the quiet streets.

“Most likely,” Christophe replied. “Or a witch.”

Gregory’s eyes widened, looking back at him. “A witch? Christophe, witches can only be taken down by a team!”

“It’s recommended. Not required, mon ami.”

Gregory rolled his eyes. “If you get me killed by a witch, I’ll rise from the grave to kill you myself if she doesn’t do it first.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Christophe smirked.

Gregory’s ears became very warm and he cleared his throat. “Do we have a location?”

“Non. The city is small. The plan is to walk through the whole place.”

“Perimeter check. Got it. Should we split up?”

Christophe shook his head. “If there is a witch, we should stick together. It’ll probably kill you if it catches you alone.”

Gregory sent a glare his way. “I’m not as incapable as you seem to believe.”

“Just because you can throw a few good punches at a fat, lazy reaper doesn’t mean you could last more than three minutes with a witch.”

The two made their way down the long street, passing by unlit shops and apartments. High above them, the ever-smiling moon leered down at the two reapers. The pair reached a cobblestone bridge, seated above a large river.

“It’s really quiet,” Gregory commented, scratching the back of his neck as he looked around. “Maybe we should have come during the day?”

“Non. Kishins and witches prefer the night. If there’s any activity, it will be—”

“Get off my bridge!”

The two reapers stopped in their tracks at the voice. Gregory peered forward, noticing a woman, her hair a dark brown with orange streaks running through it. Her pointed hat and malicious grin made it easy to identify her as—

“A witch,” Gregory breathed, eyes widening.

Christophe held out his arm, the flesh transforming into something that looked halfway between an axe and a shovel. The blade had a piercing sharpness, but the width was wider than an average axe.

He pointed his weaponized arm towards her, exclaiming, “This is not your bridge, witch!”

The witch grinned, placing her hands against her outfit, the same colors as her hair. “Says who?” she teased.

“Me,” Christophe said, green eyes narrowing in determination.

Then, he was charging for her.

The witch’s demeanor did not change. If anything, her grin only grew as she stood taller, her height seeming to grow abnormally. From her hands sprouted some sort of spheres, glowing eerily. From a distance, it was hard to see, but as Gregory followed Christophe, the sight became clear.

Cockroaches.

The spheres that continued to grow were none other than icky, disgusting cockroaches.

“Shit,” Gregory gasped between breaths.

Christophe didn’t seem to care, only continuing his charge. He rushed forward, ready to strike, but before Gregory had time to finish blinking, a bomb flew in their direction. Gregory was knocked backwards, rolling over multiple times, his body slamming into the road with violent force. He landed, letting out a hard cough.

He glanced up to see Christophe nearby. The Frenchman looked frozen for a moment, one knee bent to the ground. Then, he was attempting to charge forward again.

Gregory chose to duck and cover. He ran to find a place to hide on the bridge, only for another explosion to hit.

This time, debris from the bridge high above came plummeting down. Gregory rolled out of the way of a large chunk of stone before quickly scrambling behind it. He laid flat on the ground, trying to catch his breath and attempting to figure out where his comrade had gone.

He was starting to regret coming along with, as Christophe had said, a guy he’d only known for a week.

**Author's Note:**

> The Soul Eater gregstophe au that no one asked for.


End file.
